This potted history of the infamous Australian outlaw benefits tremendously from Gerry Fisher's frequently ravishing photography but is ultimately doomed by its paint by numbers screenplay and the star turn by Mick Jagger (who reportedly dismissed the film as a "load of s**t"). Frankly, a bearded Jagger speaking in a weak brogue reminded me more of Warwick Davis in the Leprechaun series than it did of a legendary Robin Hood style badman. Shel Silverstein's faux-folk songs haven't aged well either.
